


Broke Your Throne

by WrongRemedy



Series: All Hail [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrongRemedy/pseuds/WrongRemedy
Summary: A sequel to my story 'Crown Another' - set directly after NXT Takeover New York 2019.





	Broke Your Throne

**Author's Note:**

> I never intended to write a follow-up to Crown Another, even though it's possibly one of my favorite things I've ever written. But then this photo came along after Takeover New York (https://66.media.tumblr.com/ff3228f87f796ab02d15a85dc1889adf/tumblr_ppitpfU2VI1rrr3k3o1_540.jpg) and I couldn't get the idea of a sequel out of my head, so here we are.
> 
> Title from 'Hallelujah' by Leonard Cohen, though I was listening to the Rufus Wainwright version of the song while I was writing.

Pete's downfall, when it comes, is as swift and ruthless as his ascension had been, and Hunter forces himself to stay as impassive as possible as he watches the monitors backstage. Walter raises the title above his head, a victorious and conquering force. Pete curls into the corner with a demeanor that Hunter hasn't seen from him in over two years, defensive and defeated. Something sour curls in Hunter's gut, but he doesn't let it show on his face. He has a job to do.

♛ ♛ ♛

He finds Pete sat slumped in a chair against the wall, head hung low and fists clenched in front of him. Pete's hair hangs in sweaty strings over his face and his sweat has cooled on his skin. He's breathing carefully, audibly, like he's trying to bank a rage or maybe just pull enough oxygen into his lungs to survive. Hunter kneels beside him, heedless of the dirt of the arena floor against his expensive suit.

“Pete,” he says softly, hand coming to rest on Pete's leg, just above his knee. Off to his left, the camera crew films a few minutes of footage and snaps several still photos, and Hunter ignores them as diligently as if his life depends on it. Pete's sanity very well might.

Pete cuts his eyes to the side, glancing fleetingly at Hunter before he settles them forward again, scowl setting in deeper as he retreats into his own head. He doesn't speak, and Hunter sighs, waving away the camera person once they've gotten their shots for the website. He takes note of the few techs that are lingering towards the far end of the hallway after the rest of the crew retreats. They're far enough away to be out of earshot, but near enough to watch whatever he does, and Hunter may have a reputation but it's not because he's not careful. When he leans in close to speak almost against Pete's ear, he keeps his eyes on the techs over Pete's head, almost daring them to sneak a picture or spread the word.

“I have to stay for the end of the show, but I'm not leaving you alone tonight, do you hear me?” he murmurs, more a statement than a question.

Pete lets out a shaky breath, hands coming up to rub tiredly across his face. He's crying, but he doesn't want Hunter to know it. Hunter puts a hand on the back of Pete's head, fingers tangling in his damp hair.

“Listen to me. Go back to your hotel room. Take a shower, order some room service, do whatever you need to. But do not fucking drink, and do not go out. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

He shakes Pete by the scruff of the neck a bit, hand tightening just to feel some of the tension held tightly in Pete's body unwind, and Pete finally looks over and meets his eyes with some sense of clarity.

“Alright,” he says, voice gruff and low. It's far from the 'yes sirs' he used to mewl before he knew the glory of WWE gold, but it's good enough for now. Hunter holds his gaze for another long moment before rising to his feet, hand trailing as he takes it away from Pete's neck and Pete tries in vain to hide the shiver that sends through him.

“Go,” Hunter says simply, turning and making his way back towards gorilla so that he can be there for the rest of the show. He doesn't look back at Pete over his shoulder, but he hears him move from the chair and head in the direction of the lockerroom. _Good_.

♛ ♛ ♛

Hunter knocks twice on the hotel room door, one hand in his pants pocket while the other thunks heavily off the aluminum. The door opens easy as a whisper a handful of seconds later, and Pete holds it open silently as Hunter strolls past him and into the room. It's nice, well-furnished and spacious, and the hotel itself is one of the more high-end ones he could have gotten for this weekend. It's a champion's suite, and Hunter knows the fact isn't lost on Pete as he stands there surrounded by his open gear bags, but without a title belt. Hunter stands in the living room with both hands in his pockets, tilting his chin up at Pete when he stops at the edge of the carpet, closer to the suite's kitchen than to Hunter himself.

Pete is wearing track pants and a tank top, and his bare feet hit the cold tile but he doesn't seem to notice it. His hair is dry and freshly washed, so at least Hunter knows he's done what he was instructed to do.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter asks, breaking the heavy silence between them. He's barely heard Pete's voice all day.

“No,” Pete says, sneer in his tone if not on his face. He's so close to cracking that Hunter can practically taste the bitterness on his tongue.

“Remind me of your word,” Hunter demands, taking his jacket off and draping it over the back of the armchair behind him. He hasn't forgotten Pete's safeword, but he nods when Pete says it as if he had. “Come on, then,” Hunter says, undoing his cuffs and shirt buttons as he walks towards the bedroom.

He hears Pete stop behind him to rifle through one of his bags, but doesn't look back. Hunter has his clothes off by the time Pete enters the room, one bottle of lube and two condoms in hand. Hunter takes them from him and sets them on the bed, reaching out to pull Pete in. The kiss tastes like Pete's toothpaste and he bites Hunter's lip almost like he's trying to prove something. Hunter lets him.

“Get your clothes off,” Hunter orders, stepping away from Pete abruptly and moving over to the bed. While Pete works his pants down, Hunter climbs onto the bed. When Pete's shirt pulls over his head, Hunter reaches for the lube, pops the cap, and sits up on his knees to coat his own hand and reach behind himself, fingers slipping in with practiced ease. He hears Pete's confused exhale before Pete enters his line of sight.

“What are you doing?” Pete spits, almost like an accusation, and Hunter rolls his neck and shrugs one shoulder while he continues to work himself open. Pete stands at the foot of the bed, naked, his arms crossed over his chest and a snarl just starting to form on his face.

“Kid?” Hunter says, pulling his fingers free and tossing one of the condoms at Pete. He catches it on instinct, but the distrustful look doesn't leave his face. “Shut up, and get over here,” Hunter finishes, laying back on the bed.

To his credit, Pete crawls onto the bed after only another second of calculating hesitation, moving the other condom onto the nightstand before tearing the wrapper of the first with his teeth and rolling it onto himself. He hovers over Hunter uncertainly, body blanketing Hunter's as much as it can with the size difference, and Hunter reaches down to wrap a fist around Pete's cock without preamble, tugging gently to bring him closer to where he wants him. Pete presses in half an inch, like he's not sure he's allowed to go any further or like he doesn't know how to proceed from there. Hunter doesn't roll his eyes, but it's a near thing.

“Move,” he says gruffly, and Pete sheathes himself entirely, his forehead thumping down onto Hunter's chest, trying to obscure his face as he comes to rest fully seated inside Hunter's body. Hunter grunts and reaches a hand up to tug on Pete's hair. “Don't fucking hide,” he growls roughly, “you know that's not what this is about.”

He feels and also hears Pete take in a deep, shaking breath, lips pressed to Hunter's sternum. When he lifts his head again his eyes are clear, more determined and impassioned than Hunter has seen him since before Walter first faced him down.

“Do it,” Hunter says, and Pete looks him straight in the eyes while he fucks him, strength and power and everything Hunter has taught him to use over the last three years.

When Pete cums, he doesn't even offer Hunter a hand. Hunter strokes himself through it without complaint, and afterwards they don't speak for long moments until Hunter hauls himself out of bed to grab a hand towel from the ensuite bathroom, wiping himself down and then throwing it to Pete, who has just finished disposing of the condom.

“Why aren't you with Johnny tonight?” Pete asks, and it's on the tip of Hunter's tongue to ask him if he didn't learn fucking anything this evening until he catches sight of Pete's face. The look in his eyes doesn't convey any softness. He heard what Hunter was trying to tell him tonight.

“Traditions can be broken,” Hunter shrugs, putting his suit back on piece by piece, slowly. “He'll get his title celebration, don't worry about him. Between Candice and Tommaso, he won't even miss me tonight.”

“And what about Walter?” Pete asks, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. Hunter laughs out loud as he buttons his shirt.

“He's a transplant,” Hunter says, unnecessarily. Pete knows all this already. “Hell, he may be the me of wXw. Nobody wants that fight. Like I said, traditions can be broken.”

Pete hums in answer, gaze shuttering briefly before he snaps his attention back to Hunter.

“I'm not staying down,” Pete says, and Hunter shakes his head, hands back in his pants pockets yet again.

“I know,” he says simply, and Pete nods decisively, like somehow those two words said all he needed to hear. Hunter thinks that's probably because they were.

 _You should see him in a crown,_ Hunter thinks, the strains of the night's theme echoing vaguely through his mind.

The door slams shut behind him when he goes, and he doesn't worry about leaving Pete alone.

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I implied that there's a longstanding tradition where Hunter fucks whoever just won the NXT or NXTUK Championship, you're right.
> 
> If you think I also implied that Candice, Johnny, and Tommaso had a threesome after Takeover, you're also right, and you might want to keep an eye out for that fic here sometime soon.
> 
> Find me talking about wrestling at: bigdaddywaltah.tumblr.com


End file.
